


What Gets You Off

by glitteratiglue



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Next Generation (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-30
Packaged: 2018-02-11 02:01:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2049129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteratiglue/pseuds/glitteratiglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunion sex with your ex who's also your best friend isn't always stars and fireworks. Sometimes it's just awkward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Gets You Off

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I love writing all that perfectly-in-tune, life-affirming fic sex, in real life, as awesome as it can be, sex is frequently ridiculous and awkward. This is my homage to that.
> 
> Set during Insurrection, after the office kiss but pre-hot tub scene. Influence of metaphasic radiation heavily implied.

It should feel entirely normal – they’ve done this so many times and in so many ways that it should be second nature. It _should_ , but Deanna is starting to think that their giddy, spur-of-the-moment decision to go to bed together wasn't as good an idea as it seemed to be. It had been going so well until Will’s watch had gotten caught in her hair. Next thing they knew, the zip of his trousers had gotten stuck when she pulled it down a little too enthusiastically, necessitating a painful removal and interrupting the moment.

They can’t quite get the kissing right; there’s too much tongue, and a miscalculation on Deanna’s part leads to her biting Will's lip so hard that he yelps, eyes widening. They fall onto the bed in an ungainly fashion, and he narrowly avoids rolling off it by throwing out a hand. By some miracle, they manage to get the rest of their uniforms off without causing any further injuries. His hands find the edge of her underwear and pull, but the seam is stronger than he thought, and what was clearly intended to be a sensual gesture just ends up being painful as the satin’s yanked against her skin. He settles for tugging the scrap of satin down her legs, avoiding her eyes the entire time.

She pulls him close, wanting to touch him everywhere at once, and he nibbles at her neck, follows it up with a gentle kiss.

“Ohh,” she moans, because it feels good, _so_ good, and his desire is seeping through into her thoughts; it's all powerful, confident lust and need to _have_ her. She breathes in and out, lets herself slip into his mind and press against that familiar spark of arousal.

“I remember that sound.” His smile’s bright as he dips his head, but the second his lips touch her skin, she start giggling uncontrollably. Will frowns, but she can’t stop laughing long enough to speak.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says, still trying to breathe. Closing her eyes, she tries to relax, but all her Betazoid mental discipline seems to have deserted her for the moment. “I’m fine now. Really.”

He smiles, shakes his head and strokes a hand up her side. She manages to hold it together until he brushes against her breast, and she loses it again, thrashing against him while she laughs.

 _Since when were you that ticklish?_ There’s amusement in his tone, but she picks up on the petulance beneath it, the thought that all he's doing is making her laugh.

_That’s not all you’re doing._

She takes his hand, moves it between her legs where she’s wet for him, and smiles when his breath catches. Two fingers slide inside her, and she bites her lip, strokes her hands up and down his back to bring him closer.

Reaching down, she wraps a hand round him, and he shudders, thrusts into her hand, but it turns into a gasp of pain – and not the good kind – when her nails catch on him sharply. Deanna murmurs a breathless apology as he winces, pulls his fingers from her and slides his thighs between her hips.

_Mmm, now._

“Oh, yeah.” His voice is rough as he grabs her hips, lunges forward, but somehow misjudges the distance and manages to smash his head against the headboard.

“Are you alright?”

His eyes are watering, and he’s seeing stars, but he nods in a dazed sort of way, and only needs half a second to be thrust inside her as deep as he can go.

 _Oh, Will, that’s good._ Pulling back, he enters her at a slightly deeper angle, and oh, it’s _so_ good that she moans. But then there’s a sound… _oh God, no, not_ _that_ , she thinks…and there it is again.

Will bites his lip like he’s trying so hard not to laugh, and there’s a look of concentration on his face that she might find comical, if she wasn’t already feeling such acute embarrassment.

_If you dare laugh, Will Riker, I’m going to kill you._

Respectful of her silent threat, he gently pulls out of her and takes her hips, flips her on to her knees and slides back into her, slow and smooth and deliberate; it feels good this way, but she also won’t have to look at him, and he knows she needs that right now.

She cries out in pain, tightens around him, and he pauses. “Deanna?”

“Sorry. It’s a bit painful. I think it’s the angle.” He shifts his hips, thrusts experimentally against her, making sure to be gentle, and she sighs past a soft gasp in her throat. “Mmm, yeah, that’s better.”

_God, you feel good._

“You’re so wet,” he growls in her ear, and it should be incredibly arousing, and it is, sort of, but a laugh bursts out of her without warning.

There's a flicker of annoyance from him, but it’s gone by the time he finds her clit with warm fingers, rubs gentle circles above, below, all round where she wants him. “Mmm, Will, don’t stop,” she whispers, almost begging, because by this point she just _needs_ to come, wound so tight she’s either going to laugh hysterically or cry.

“Ouch!” He stills inside her, and she tenses against him in frustration. “Wrist cramp. Sorry, just a sec.” He takes his hand away, rests it on the bed and reaches around with the other one. His fingers brush against her, circling her clit, and at least that’s one thing that works, because she’s on the edge in seconds. He thrusts faster, panting in her ear, and she buries her face in the pillow, moans because despite all the false starts, it actually feels great; Will thrust deep inside her and those warm, confident fingers that know just how to touch her. Well, sort of – these fingers are uncharacteristically clumsy, slipping against her as he moves inside her and often not quite hitting the mark.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she concentrates on the feeling, but it’s starting to slip away as Will rubs a bit too hard, and anyway, she’s been _so close_ for long enough that she can tell she's never going to come now.

“Are you going to - ?” he asks carefully, but he knows already she isn’t, and his fingers pause.

“I can’t. Too sensitive, I think.”

“Sorry,” he groans, his tone apologetic. That’s when he realises he isn’t going to come either – somehow the moment’s lost and damn it, his head really _hurts_. “I don’t think I’m going to, either.” He collapses on top of her, strokes hair away from her neck and presses a kiss to her still-trembling skin.

“You’re heavy,” she murmurs where her face is being crushed into the pillowcase.

“Sorry.” He rolls off her, and they don’t say anything for a moment as they try to catch their breath. They look at each other, and suddenly Will’s face is creasing with laughter, and it sets her off, too.

“I can’t believe we had sex like that,” he says, mortified. “I haven’t had sex like that, since – God, maybe my first year at the academy when I was blind drunk. I swear, I’ve never tried to rip someone’s underwear away in my life!" She raises an eyebrow at that, and he glares as if to say, _be fair. “_ I think there may be something seriously wrong with my brain. Deanna, I was touching you like I was polishing an ornament.”  She smiles, but hastily suppresses her laugh upon seeing Will’s traumatised expression.

“Well, I was thinking that it _was_ something of an anomaly. It’s not as if I was great, either.”

“More than an anomaly. We were always good at this. I mean, more than good.” She picks up on his concern, and he’s starting to babble. “Really, Deanna, you know I’m not this bad normally, I don’t know. There are definitely people on this ship who could confirm that I’m you know, not –“ At that she smirks, because it’s impossible for her not to enjoy Will’s panic just a little.

She puts a hand over his mouth. “Will, _stop._ Maybe we were just expecting too much of ourselves.” Sensing the dismay in his mind, she hastily adds, “That’s not what I meant. What I mean is, we didn’t actually talk about anything beforehand, and maybe that was a mistake. We’ve been friends for so long, I think on a subconscious level we were still thinking of ourselves that way.”

He sighs heavily. _I won’t let this change anything, if you don’t want it to._

His voice is gentle in her mind, and she can feel how earnest his words are; he really would just let this go, if she wanted him to, and that's what makes up her mind.

“That’s not how you really feel, is it?” she asks softly, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair.

 _No. But I’d do anything for you._ They were laughing just seconds ago; now there’s a lump in her throat and she's _wrecked_ with feeling.

“Come here, imzadi," she says. He moves in close, and she catches a rush of intent that makes her tingle, wakes up the latent desire coiled beneath her skin.

“Please tell me I get a do-over,” he says plaintively, and nibbles at her ear in a way that’s definitely not friendly. Deanna smiles, pulls his face to hers and kisses him, breathless and open: it’s an inviting challenge.

This time, it’s nothing like two friends sleeping together. It takes a certain amount of focus from both of them to let go of that, but the moment they do, all the prickling embarrassment and awkwardness is thankfully forgotten. Will kisses up the inside of her thigh, and this time there’s no laughter, just soft moans as she tries to breathe through the desperate, needy pleasure threading through her mind, the sensation of his warm lips on every sensitive place he can find.

 _Stop thinking. Feel._ It’s pure command tone, but simultaneously so sweet and arousing that she can’t not obey.

She does; tries and fails to catch her breath two orgasms later, his palpable relief intertwining with her own. They hardly speak this time, wanting nothing to interrupt the moment as they press their bodies close and tangle together, wrapped around each other's minds like a shared skin. He takes her hand and holds tight as they move together through sharp breaths, letting his need and relief and pleasure wash over her until she’s shaking beneath him. Will’s fingers find her clit – gently, this time – and she comes again, taking him with her into a climax so intense that colours bloom behind his closed eyes, and he groans out her name like it’s a prayer.

He cups her face with his hands, kisses her deeply and she moans into his mouth, every part of her sore and trembling in the wake of so much pleasure. It’s even better than she remembers to feel Will like this: inside her in every way possible. The sensation borders on overwhelming, but she puts that down to the fact that it’s been a while since they’ve been in each other’s minds.

“I’m glad you gave me a second chance. Imagine if you’d remembered me that way…” He shudders.

“I wouldn’t have let it get around the ship,” she says, teasing. He smiles, takes her hand and carefully pulls back, settles into the pillows beside her.

“I love you.” He didn’t mean to say it – she can feel that, from his sudden anxiety – but it just feels _right_ , and she squeezes his fingers in reassurance.

 _I know._ “And I love you.”

 _I knew that. I was just waiting for you to come around._ His brash confidence is just a shade away from arrogant; she could push him away, tell him he’s being far too presumptuous. But she doesn’t – after all, they’ve waited long enough for this. He feels it regardless, and laughs softly against her hair.

“Really, from a scientific point of view, we should repeat the experiment. Just to make sure that wasn’t an outlier.” Will’s grin is hopeful, and she can’t help but smile, because he’s both completely serious and entirely confident that she’s going to agree.

“Fine. But the beard has got to go.”

He frowns. “What?”

* * *

In the aftermath of everything, she and Will are kept so busy that they're barely able to snatch a moment together, let alone find time to discuss their relationship. When all is said and done, it takes a while for the Captain to straighten things out with Starfleet Command, and even with Geordi's efficient team working around the clock, it's more than a week until the _Enterprise_ is ready to leave orbit of the Ba'ku world.

In the debriefing for senior staff, Beverly explains that the metaphasic radiation had a number of curious side-effects on behaviour, including clumsiness, confusion and lack of good judgement. They’d noticed Worf’s interesting skin ailments, and Geordi’s eyes – that was a shame, even though he’d never expected it to last – but had never thought about any other effects.

Deanna doesn’t think she’s ever seen Will look so relieved.

She rolls her eyes at him, half-listening to Captain Picard’s anecdote involving an uncontrollable urge to dance a mambo.

_You’re an idiot._

_Yeah, but I’m yours. When we get back to Earth, I’m not letting you out of bed for a week.  
_

_I'm yours if you want me._

_Always. Every day_. _Now?_ The last word is accompanied by a wicked smile that sends a rush of heat straight between her thighs; it's probably all the talking they need to do for now.

_I've got twenty minutes until my next appointment. Think you can convince the Captain to cut the meeting short and pick it up again later, Commander?_

_Done and_ done, _Counselor._

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Insurrection and listening to Jon and Marina's hilarious commentary, and ended up thinking about what happened before Will and Deanna ended up in the hot tub, and how it would be really funny if the big reunion sex was actually awkward, and not so hot at all. Especially if metaphasic radiation was involved.
> 
> Really, this fic is 80% Will being an awkward dork and 20% other reasons, but it was fun to write. Even if it made me cringe constantly.
> 
> Title supplied by the song _What Gets You Off_ by Jack's Mannequin (which is a much sexier song than this fic turned out to be).


End file.
